Sold Out.

From the realms of PMS and exhausted relief from finishing my final paper, I am writing this blog. As if I haven't written enough pages over the past month, I feel like I need to write just a little more.

This last paper almost killed me. It was a monster that ate me up and spit me back out four times...that's how many times I changed the direction of this academic doozy. It was about the Ayoreo people in Bolivia. For those of you who do not know, I spent a few hours in one of their little squatter villages, Barrio Bolivar, every Wednesday for two years while I lived in Santa Cruz. I mostly played, sang, coloured, and taught Bible stories to the children with a lot of help from some Bolivian friends. If I pulled in with the truck, they would maul the truck and then swarm me so one or all of us were crushed each time. The squalor of their settlement was shocking; the ground was littered with garbage and a stroll around the place always meant walking with eyes wide open for fear of stepping in excrement. The images and the reality of Barrio Bolivar distress me to this day, but my love and concern for them has not lessened either.

So, I wrote about them. I turned them into a topic for my paper. I imagined that I could summon up a solution for the persistent problems that plague the Ayoreo. I hoped that my way with words and convincing arguements would get me an 'A'. I argued that Indigenous Education Reform was one of the answers to the social issues of Barrio Bolivar. I argued that for 20 pages. 20 pages of bunk.

I put the finishing touches on that document and opened up my email to this:

"For those who love Ayore girls: We woke up to sad news this morning. 17 year old Rebeca Cutamurajai (better known as Corea) disappeared on Friday night from Barrio Bolivar after climbing into a taxi to ply her business. Her body was found yesterday on our end of town. A reminder of the urgency of the work among these girls."

"Her business" was prostitution. What business do I have plying my opinions, perched in the halls of pedagogy, with the all the haughtiness of higher education behind me? Do I really believe that education is the answer? I feel like I sold myself for the price of a scholarship. That paper was bull shit. Professor Lafreniere, if you read this, you must know what I really believe: Jesus is the hope of the nations.

All that other stuff was only about the grade.
Rest in peace, Rebeca.